


Frosted

by Suspicious_Popsicle



Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 17:10:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4145880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suspicious_Popsicle/pseuds/Suspicious_Popsicle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yuri was panting, mouth hanging open, watching Flynn with eyes gone dark with need. He reached out, wordlessly, and drew Flynn into a kiss. His hair was the cold damp of snowmelt where it touched Flynn’s skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frosted

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Uhh...so, a good while back, I thought it would be funny to have a ToV/Charlie and the Chocolate Factory fusion where Yuri was the eccentric owner of the factory and Karol was the lucky kid, and Flynn was the lucky kid's older brother/guardian. I never actually wrote that story...but this sort of resulted from that idea.
> 
> Disclaimer: The characters in this story are from Tales of Vesperia and do not belong to me.

It had been a month since he had moved into the candy factory with his younger brother, Karol, and Flynn was slowly getting used to the sugarcoated strangeness of the place. A golden ticket in a chocolate bar had awarded Karol one of five coveted places on a tour of the factory led by its notoriously strange and reclusive owner, Yuri Lowell, and the simple application of a modicum of respect and common sense had won Karol the grand prize—ownership of the factory itself. Yuri had gleefully signed the candy factory over to Karol, and welcomed him and Flynn to their new home with an earnest but differentiated eagerness. Yuri and Karol got on as if they’d been born siblings. Flynn’s relationship with the factory’s founder was a little more…complicated.

At the moment, he was acting as a delivery boy for Yuri who, by his own choice, had relegated his work to that of a consultant for Karol. Flynn hadn’t heard from his brother about any plans involving ice cream, so he could only speculate that the magazine-perfect parfait accented with fresh fruits and wedges of buttery cookies was anything more than a treat Yuri had requested be brought up to him in his office.

Yuri’s office didn’t look like a place where much work ever got done. It was decorated in soft pastels and chocolate brown, like a petit four turned inside out, and candy clutter had accumulated in drifts all around the room. An umbrella stand next to the door held a selection of lollypops as big as bus tires. Flynn doubted that they were just for show. Pillows shaped like wrapped sweets and doughnuts were piled in one corner, a makeshift bed for late nights. Against one wall was a desk overflowing with papers, half-eaten candies, crumpled wrappers, and bags of icing, sprinkles, and other little decorations. In the corner beside that was a candy apple red oversized armchair beneath a lollypop tree.

Lounging in the chair, Yuri smiled as he licked slowly up the length of a unicorn pop. He locked gazes with Flynn and swirled his tongue around the tip before drawing it slowly into his mouth, then went hollow-cheeked sucking on it. Finally, he pulled it free with a wet smack. His smile had taken on a sharper edge as Flynn stood frozen in the doorway.

“What’d you bring me?” he asked.

“Huh?”

Flynn looked down at the tray in his hands and struggled to think, to get the gears in his brain turning and pumping the blood back up to where it was actually needed at the moment. Yuri was quick enough to realize what it was before Flynn regained his ability to speak. He set his lollypop aside on his desk and crossed the room with an eager stride.

“Rita sent you with that, right? How long has it been out of the freezer?”

Looking down at the beautifully prepared ice cream parfait he bore, Flynn thought that was a strange question, even for Yuri. The ice cream was still in its perfect scoops, not even a little melted around the edges. The glass that held it was lightly frosted with condensation. It was obviously freshly made. Although….

“She said to tell you ‘three hours.’ It wasn’t really—?”

“Ha!”

Yuri smiled easily, but sometimes the innocence in his grins startled Flynn. He lifted the dessert off the tray, studying it from different angles and licking his lips in anticipation.

“This,” Yuri said, “was the last project I started before I handed the factory over to Karol. It’s ever-frozen ice cream. It never melts. I told Rita I wanted to be the first to try it.”

“Is that wise?” Flynn couldn’t help remembering what had happened to some of the other children who had won a tour of the factory and gotten a hold of untested treats. The amount of nougat that had come out of that last girl…. He shook his head, trying to dispel the image.

“It’ll be fine. Half the fun is in seeing what’ll happen.”

He pulled the long-handled spoon out and scooped up a bite of ice cream. Flynn watched him eat it, filled with a strange mixture of trepidation and desire. Yuri wasn’t bothering to tease, but he didn’t really need to. His eyes had closed at the first taste, and Flynn drank in his expression greedily, savoring the little hum of pleasure and the way Yuri’s mouth moved as he sucked every last trace of his treat off the spoon.

Flynn had to set the tray down to wipe the sweat from his palms. His mouth was dry. Yuri was going to need to take a half day. A long lunch. Something.

Finally, Yuri pulled the spoon free. He licked his lips as he scooped up another bite. “Rita sure knows her stuff,” he murmured.

Flynn had to stop watching Yuri eat. He hadn’t even realized that could be a kink until he’d come to the candy factory. Tearing his eyes away took an effort, and didn’t actually help all that much, as the pile of dessert-shaped pillows was the first thing that entered his vision. With that came the memory of how, not two nights ago, he and Yuri had indulged themselves in each other on that same soft, slippery pile of pastel silks.

“Brrr. That stuff really _is_ cold. You want a taste?”

“No, thank you.”

Sort of, though. If he could taste it on Yuri’s tongue, perhaps. He glanced at Yuri out of the corner of his eye, then did a double take.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah.”

Yuri had set the glass aside on the corner of his desk and crossed his arms tightly over his chest. He was rubbing his hands briskly over his sleeves, generating friction to keep himself warm, although it wasn’t particularly cool in his office. Flynn took a step closer, frowning. He didn’t look right, particularly his mouth. It looked almost as if….

“Your lips are turning blue!”

“They’re—whoa!” He’d reached up to touch, then jerked his hand back and now stared at it in shock. The color was leeching from his fingers. His nails had taken on a purplish tint.

“What is it?”

Even as Flynn asked, he could guess. From the way Yuri was beginning to shiver, it didn’t look like the ice cream was going to be the only thing permanently frozen. Three hours and it still hadn’t melted. Flynn wondered if there was a time limit for a person, or if Yuri would even last that long. How deep would this freeze go?

“Come on. We need to get you down to the lab.” He grabbed Yuri’s hand, but immediately drew back. Yuri’s fingers had felt like icicles in his grip. His gaze shot up to meet Yuri’s stare, and he knew that his alarm was obvious.

“It’s all r-right. I’m j-just a lit-t-tle c-cold.”

“We need to get you warm, _right now_.”

“G-guess I sh-should-d-d’ve s-seen th-this c-c-coming.”

The cold was getting much worse, judging from the chattering of his teeth. With a start, Flynn noticed frost collecting thick as snow on his dark hair. Even though Yuri tried to smile, there was a growing concern lurking behind the expression. Flynn took hold of Yuri’s hand again, holding tight despite how cold his fingers were. Things were bad indeed if Yuri was worried enough to let it show.

“We’ll go see Rita. She’ll be able to help you.”

On impulse, meaning only to reassure him, Flynn leaned in and kissed Yuri’s chilled lips. Both of them shuddered at the contact.

“D-d-do th-that a-g-g-g-gain.”

“This isn’t the time—”

“No! It f-felt w-w-warm! D-d-do it a-g-gain!”

Hesitantly, hoping he wouldn’t end up freezing, himself, Flynn kissed him once more, softly.

Yuri jumped a little and sucked in a sharp, hissing breath.

“What?”

“Burns,” he managed through clenched teeth.

He pulled Flynn close and it was like being embraced by a snowman. Only where their lips met did there seem to be a thaw. Groaning, Yuri deepened the kiss, turned it clumsy, needy, greedy for warmth. Heat flooded his face through the kiss, and Flynn really could taste the ice cream on his tongue. Worried that tasting it secondhand might not spare him its chilling effects, and knowing that he’d be no good to Yuri if he froze, too, Flynn let his mouth wander. He kissed chin and cheeks, nose and brow. Yuri’s skin warmed and flushed everywhere they touched. Flynn kissed his eyelids and felt the frost that had formed on Yuri’s eyelashes melt against his lips.

All of a sudden, he found himself supporting nearly all of Yuri’s weight. Stumbling, he nearly fell as Yuri clung weakly to him. As he steadied himself, he felt against his neck a breath like the north wind that sent a chill down his spine. Yuri’s lips alit on his skin, cool as raindrops.

“S-sorry. Guess you m-m-made me g-g-go a li-little w-weak in the kn-kn-knees, there.”

“Yuri.” There was enough warning in his tone to demand the truth, and Yuri sighed.

“I c-c-can’t f-feel my l-l-legs.”

“This isn’t working. I’m taking you to see Rita.”

“N-no. It’s w-w-wor-k-k-king. We j-just n-n-need to h-heat th-things up.”

“How can you make jokes right now?”

“I’ll b-be f-fine. Y-you’ll k-k-keep me w-w-warm, r-right?”

With a sigh, he half-dragged Yuri to the chair and let him sag down into it. Yuri’s hair caught on the high back, his fingers clutched loosely at Flynn’s clothes. Kneeling before him, Flynn drew his face down. Yuri's lips, cooling after their brief discussion, warmed once more, swifter than before. His breath soon seemed a little less cold, though his hands….

Fingers caressed Flynn’s neck like trickles of cold water over his skin. Shuddering, he grabbed Yuri’s wrist, feeling the cold, sluggish pulse beating against his fingers, an ice-clogged winter river. He shared his warmth with lingering kisses over Yuri's palm, his knuckles. He drew Yuri’s fingers in, sucked them like popsicles, like the lollypop Yuri had used to tease him when he’d arrived. The whole time he worked at warming Yuri’s hand, Flynn was subject to his gaze, dark and glittering. He took it as a good sign that Yuri’s cheeks had remained flushed.

Shoving his sleeve out of the way, Flynn kissed along the inside of Yuri’s forearm. He could see the trail he’d left, spots of red like cherries on a vanilla sundae. Yuri tasted faintly of sweet cream and strawberries—another side effect of the ice cream, Flynn was sure, and he found himself craving the taste. He lingered in places, drawing the cold from Yuri’s skin and warming him from the outside in. When the salt flavor of skin and sweat began to overtake that beguiling sweetness, he knew it was time to move on. Normally, he didn’t care for sweets, but he could eat Yuri up. Seeing him shudder, Flynn paused to meet his gaze. Yuri licked his lips, gray eyes intense as he watched Flynn.

“Th-that’s a d-d-dangerous l-look.”

“Having you be this docile is…interesting.” He surged up to press his face against Yuri’s neck and shivered as he breathed in the cold air rolling off his skin. Yuri shuddered beneath his mouth, gripping Flynn’s shoulder tight with the hand warmed by his affections.

“I’d m-m-move if I c-could.”

“I know.” He pulled back with sudden doubt, wanting to look Yuri in the eyes again. “Is this really helping?”

“It w-would be if y-you w-would k-keep it up!”

Fair enough. He found the pulse in Yuri’s neck and massaged with lips and tongue, willing the blood to flow swift and hot through his veins. Yuri would be thoroughly marked with evidence of this mix of folly and desire come the morning, and Flynn certainly planned to lecture him about it once the danger had passed. In the meantime, he plucked loose the buttons that held Yuri’s shirt closed and took his gasp as encouragement. Ice crystals had formed in the pale hollow of Yuri’s throat and along the ridge of his collarbone, and Flynn licked them away, drank them down, and left rosy skin in his wake.

The shivering that wracked Yuri’s body eased with the progression of warmth over his chest. Flynn lavished attention over Yuri’s heart with the vague expectation of warming the whole of him by heating his blood as his pulse pumped swifter, stronger with his speeding heartbeat. At that point, it seemed that any skin-on-skin contact between them was working to thaw Yuri by degrees, and Flynn allowed those chilled fingers to clumsily unbutton his shirt and slip beneath the fabric. The iciness of those touches melted slowly against his skin and set off sparks beneath. As Yuri’s fingers grew increasingly nimble, Flynn realized that he wasn’t merely trading his own warmth to thaw Yuri: he was warming them both.

Sighs and sharp hitches of breath, quick jerks of Yuri's body and clutching hands with fingertips like cool stones urged Flynn on. It seemed to him that Yuri was more sensitive than usual, that he felt more keenly the gentle nips or yearning flicks of tongue against his skin.

Did it burn? Flynn wondered. Was the heat of his mouth, the warmth of his fingertips more pronounced against the chill rather than offering a slow thaw? Did his touch dance like a flame over Yuri’s skin, or sink gradually through the chill? Barely touching, he skimmed his palms over Yuri’s body and watched him squirm. He blew a breath over Yuri’s skin, stirring tiny hairs and making him writhe against the cushions.

A whimper escaped Yuri’s throat, such an unexpected sound that Flynn paused and looked up to meet his eyes. There was pleasure on the brink of pain in the intensity of Yuri’s expression, or possibly the reverse. He was panting, mouth hanging open, watching Flynn with eyes gone dark with need. He reached out, wordlessly, and drew Flynn into a kiss. His hair was the cold damp of snowmelt where it touched Flynn’s skin.

Wrapping Yuri in his arms, Flynn let his hands roam across his back, fingers leaving warmth in their wake like streaks through condensation. Yuri was tense and shuddering in the embrace, but he held tight and scattered kisses wherever he could reach. His lips pressed against the crown of Flynn’s head, his temple, the top of his ear—quick kisses that fell like sleet and melted quickly away into nothing. He pulled back only long enough to strip away his shirt and toss it aside, and then he was clinging to Flynn once more, every stroke of his fingers igniting more sparks.

As the cold was drawn from his body, Yuri became more demanding, lips seeking Flynn’s forehead, the bridge of his nose, until finally Flynn was forced to look up, only to have Yuri come crashing into him. They kissed as Yuri slid off the chair and into Flynn’s lap. His legs were still frozen, blocks of ice to either side of Flynn’s thighs and, though he rubbed his hands over Yuri’s jeans, he knew the friction wasn’t what he needed. Yuri’s chest was lukewarm against his, but heating quickly where their bodies were pressed together. Flynn let his hands wander up to his waist, around to his back and down. Yuri filled his hands, chilled and craving touches that burned. Following the waistline of his jeans back around to the front, Flynn popped open the button of his fly.

Yuri broke the kiss just long enough to murmur: “Finally getting to the im-p-portant part.” His voice was breathy. His shivers had been reduced to a soft trembling.

Curling a hand around the back of Yuri’s neck, Flynn noticed with some dismay that he still wasn’t warm enough. When Yuri moaned into the kiss, though, the sound was all need, and he raked his nails teasingly over Flynn’s chest even as he pushed back into the stroke of warm hands petting down his back. Flynn imagined himself brushing the cold off of Yuri’s skin like so much snowfall. Gasping, writhing between the play of lips and press of hands, Yuri nearly pushed Flynn down to the floor. His hands had finally regained their usual warmth. His mouth burned.

It was becoming increasingly apparent that, so long as he coaxed to life the flame of passion between them, the living warmth he’d restored to Yuri’s body would not dissipate all together. The realization became less and less important until a tiny doubt wondered what they would do should this ardent thawing prove only temporary. By that time, however, it was too late. Need drowned out the uncertainly.

He surged up, lifting Yuri with a sudden and surprising ease and setting him back on the chair. Flynn settled himself between Yuri's legs and pulled off his shoes, tossing them aside. Yuri’s socks followed. His feet were freezing, and he cried out involuntarily as Flynn laid his palms against his soles.

“I can f-feel th-that,” he stammered. “Like w-walking over hot p-pavem-ment.”

The fact that he could feel at all was reassuring. His legs weren’t shaking, and Flynn wondered if it was possible to be too cold to shiver. Rising up on his knees, he reached for the waistband of jeans and boxers, and stripped Yuri bare.

Fingers digging into the plush armrests, Yuri was able to lift himself far enough off the seat to allow Flynn to pull his jeans down. Little gasps escaped him when Flynn’s hands brushed up against his thighs and calves, and he sagged as his legs slipped free. His breath was coming in shallow gasps, and Flynn took a moment to draw him back down into a kiss, partly to be sure Yuri hadn’t started once more to freeze, and partly because he simply couldn’t resist.

Yuri fed him whimpers and little moans through the kiss as Flynn stroked his thighs. If the way he seemed unable to keep still was any indication, then those simple touches were doing far more to excite him than they usually would. Letting his touch roam, Flynn skimmed palms and fingers over every inch of Yuri’s legs, paying attention to the slow spread of warmth and the first signs of the shivering that would set in and, eventually, hopefully, pass for good.

With a crooked smile, Flynn pulled away from the kiss and sank between Yuri’s legs. He lifted his right leg, cradling it in his hands as Yuri gripped the armrests and pushed himself against the back cushion of the chair. Flynn kissed the top of his foot, listening with some satisfaction to the hiss of breath Yuri couldn’t—or wouldn’t—hold back. He kissed each toe, all across the back of his foot, over the peaks and hollows of his ankle. Yuri’s skin warmed much quicker beneath Flynn's mouth than his hands; a given, Flynn supposed, considering that the ice cream that had left him this way had been meant to be eaten. He kissed his way up Yuri’s leg, spurred on as much by the way Yuri writhed and groaned as the need to warm him up.

“Flynn,” he gasped. “Please…haa…! _Fuck_ …!”

Swallowing a laugh, Flynn ran his fingers teasingly over the curve of Yuri’s thigh. He wasn’t shivering so badly that it affected his speech anymore, but he seemed to have lost the ability to string a sentence together.

“Yes?”

He knew from experience that it drove Yuri crazy when he managed to sound calm at times like this, despite the fact that it was taking all his self control to keep going slow. He kissed high up on the inside of Yuri’s thigh and let that trembling leg slip through his grip to begin all over again on the other one.

“Feels like…when your foot’s been asleep.” He gasped again and swore as Flynn’s lips tickled the arch of his foot. “Gonna be interesting just south of the border.”

His salacious grin was somewhat ruined by his panting breaths, and Flynn tickled behind his knee, taking satisfaction from the way Yuri arched against the chair as his leg jerked reflexively.

“Thought you were worried about me.”

“You aren’t in danger of freezing right this moment.” He nipped at Yuri’s calf, and licked the reddening skin. The taste of strawberries and cream lingered faintly there, too, and he followed it up.

“Bits of me are!”

“And whose fault is that?” Flynn licked along the inside of his thigh, feeling the twitch of muscles beneath his tongue. Yuri was one more thrust of his hips shy of slipping right off the seat again.

“Yours if you don’t get on with it,” he managed.

Laughing softly, Flynn pulled back a little to consider how—exactly—he wanted to ‘get on with it.’ Go slow and watch Yuri squirm and shudder? Or move fast and see how quickly he could be overcome? With a quick, mischievous grin, he opened his mouth and took Yuri in.

Yuri threw his head back with an incredible groan, and Flynn was sure that, had it not been for the lingering effects of the ice cream, he would have come then and there. Good to know the relief was so immediate. He gave Yuri the barest moment to catch his breath before setting about leaving him breathless in earnest, thinking it a fair trade for all the times their positions had been reversed.

Beneath his hands, Yuri was tense and quivering. He’d regained the use of his legs, and his feet slipped against the plush carpet, searching for purchase as he canted his hips upward. The room was submerged in soft, wet sounds and gasping, hitching breaths. Sensation stole Yuri’s words away, left him nothing but a melting puddle of need. Flynn let his touch wander, driving the cold from those last, secret, intimate places where it hid. Yuri’s body was aflame, radiating heat. He gave himself over to the touches of slick, coaxing tongue and tender, searching fingers.

When the time came, Yuri found his voice with a shuddering cry that left Flynn self-satisfied and aching. He kissed his way up Yuri’s body, reassured by the warmth that met his lips at every pause. Reaching the hollow of Yuri’s throat, he nuzzled the soft skin there.

“Better?”

“Much.” Yuri’s warm fingers walked over his chest and tickled their way down his stomach. “Want me to return the favor?”

With a pleading groan, Flynn scooped him off the chair, bearing him down onto the thick, soft carpet where they could stretch out. Yuri’d gotten his just desserts. Now, Flynn was going to take his time enjoying his own.


End file.
